


The Passing of Time

by DinoRoar



Series: Parchments of Prompt Responses [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Azkaban, Dark Thoughts, Dementors, Harry Potter - Freeform, Innocent Sirius Black, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Protective Sirius Black, Regret, Sad Sirius Black, Sirius Black in Azkaban, Sirius Thoughts, Wrongful Imprisonment, deep thoughts, feelings of failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinoRoar/pseuds/DinoRoar
Summary: A deeper look into the inner turmoil Sirius felt while imprisoned in Azkaban, with only his own thoughts and memories for company. Warning - Angst, Depressive Thoughts, Mentions of Character Deaths.
Series: Parchments of Prompt Responses [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719328
Kudos: 2





	The Passing of Time

As Sirius lay, curled into himself with thin and skeletal arms wrapped around his equally emaciated knees, all he could feel was the ever pressing emotions of regret and failure. There had been many times within his life where he had felt defeated, or been branded a failure by family, girlfriends and teachers, but he had never felt the accompanying bone deep feeling of failure in the way he did now. 

The genuine hopelessness of his situation had passed years previous, and he had become encompassed in grief that never seemed to go away, how could it with the dementors patrolling the cells of Azkaban daily. Their presence served to suck away even the smallest drop of happiness or joy within his body and mind, replacing it with the consuming feeling of hopelessness and fear. 

There was no place for happiness in Azkaban, and Sirius had learned that even the smallest memory of happier times would become overcome with negativity, until they were lost in the abyss of darkness. He tried to never think of his godson in more than a passing flicker of hope, that somewhere out in the world Harry was living a life of joy and filled with love. Sirius couldn't focus on those thoughts, less they be tarnished by the taint of dementors. So all they could remain, was flickers of what he hoped to be.

Time had passed since he was first incarcerated, back when he still believed that everything was a mistake and somebody, anybody, would realise that there was no way that Sirius Black would turn against his best friend, his brother, and join the side of Voldemort. He had been naïve to think that that anybody would even care to look into his incarceration, or the status of his non-existent trial and perhaps investigate. It hadn’t taken long for Sirius to realise that he was never going to get that trial, he was never going to be released, and he was never going to see his godson, his precious Harry again. 

It had been twelve long and cold years since his imprisonment. It had been twelve years since Sirius had been able to breathe anything other than the stale air of Azkaban, twelve years since he was able to see anything other than the craggy walls that seeped misery and death. Twelve years of not being there for Harry, not being there when he was sad or angry, not being there when he reached his milestones, not being there when he needed someone to be his biggest supporter and cheer him on. Most importantly, it had been twelve years since the murder of James and Lily Potter. 

There was never a day when Sirius didn’t think about his best friend, his brother. The dementors wouldn’t allow for it, their very presence drudging up every cold, dark thought circulating in his mind. Even the happy memories, of their times at Hogwarts where they ran rampant through the grounds, playing tricks and making mischief were now tinged with bleak foreboding of what would occur. Sirius could never forget the way that James’ eyes had stared at him, usually bright with mischief and happiness, so blank and empty as he lay at the bottom of the staircase on the day that ended everything. For twelve years, for 4380 days, James’ cold and dead eyes were all that Sirius could see when he shut his own.

Sirius had spent the past twelve years saturating in his grief and his failures. He had failed to be a good godfather and protect Harry; he failed every single day to be there for him and protect him from the negativity of the outside world. He had failed to be a good friend, to James and protect his family from the dark forces, and yet he had failed to do so in trusting their lives with someone they believed to be a friend. For twelve years Sirius had sat there and stewed in anger and depression, there was no release from the despair that encompassed Azkaban.

Time was slowly ticking away for Sirius, and it had been for some time now. There was limited time left for him in this hellhole, he could feel it in his weary bones that there wasn’t much time left for him anymore. He had managed to make it through twelve years, but he didn’t think he could make it through twelve more. His body was physically failing him, malnutrition and lack of exercise and sunlight had deteriorated his physicality and he couldn’t imagine being able to run around as Padfoot without his legs collapsing under him. His mind was still as sharp as before his incarceration, but there wasn’t much to think about inside Azkaban, except for James, his death and Wormtails betrayal.

He could feel the presence of the dementors surrounding him, there was barely a shift in the atmosphere, but after so long he could recognise the change in the way he felt when they were present. The way that his cell became colder, filled with darkness as if all of the light had been sucked from inside along with any happiness that the prisoners could somehow muster up. It was times like that when Sirius was just waiting for his body to give out, to finally shut down and end all of the grief and the pain that was constantly present within himself.   
Then he would think of Harry. 

As much as he endeavoured to separate the image of his bubbly and mischievous godson from the darkness that was Azkaban, it was the constant thoughts in the back of his mind that his godson may one day need him that kept him alive. It was the memories of watching Harry as a toddler zooming around the cottage on a training broom that reminded Sirius there was happiness left in the world. It was knowing that somewhere out there, every full moon Remus had to suffer through the painful transformation into a werewolf without support from his friends, that reminded Sirius there were people who relied on him. And it was the image of James, his best friend James, the one person who Sirius could always rely upon no matter what, that reminded Sirius of his promise to always be there for Harry. 

He needed to be there for his godson, the boy that he had always thought of as his own son. He needed to be there as Harry made his way through Hogwarts and entered a world that would forever think of him as their saviour. A world that would willingly sacrifice his childhood and future for the greater good of the Wizarding world.  
Harry needed someone to stand up for him, to be on his side and protect him.

Harry needed someone to be there for him, and not the rest of the Wizarding World.

Harry needed his godfather. 

He needed Sirius.


End file.
